Iron Sharpening Iron
by inthenightside
Summary: A masskink request that for once wasn't for romance but an explanation of how Saren and Nihlus turned out to be friends rather than just colleagues.  Saren reluctantly accepts Nihlus as a Spectre trainee, and they immediately clash.
1. Chapter 1

kinkmeme prompt for this one was:

I want a fic where Saren and Nihlus' student-mentor relationship got off to a really goddamn rocky start. Maybe Saren didn't want to train another Spectre but the Council made him pick a candidate, or maybe Nihlus is a hothead and needs a lot of work - either way, I want to see them butting heads during Nihlus' Spectre training.

Can be romantic, but I'd like to see them before any of the complications. A fic that explains WHY Saren and he become friends instead of just having a professional relationship would be much appreciated. Saren is a stone cold bastard so what's special about Nihlus? Explainations: I wants them.

* * *

><p>So that's my take on things. Not romantic, but about friendship.<p>

* * *

><p>.<p>

Standing on a small asteroid that was really a concealed pirate base while approaching the enemy decidedly wasn't the appropriate situation for discussions about proper chain of command. Unfortunately, Saren's new trainee apparently lacked the sense to understand this.

In retrospect, Saren mused as he met the defiant stare of his trainee with a frosty look of his own, suggesting Nihlus as a Spectre candidate had been a mistake he had come to regret, and would continue to regret even further..  
>He really should have seen beforehand that the otherwise promising candidate had a serious attitude problem.<br>Or else, Saren had a problem with his attitude, which of course made it once again Nihlus' problem, so there really was no difference in the end.

Saren had been impressed by the young soldier's accomplishments which suggested confidence, the ability to think on his feet and a sound mind for planning, all of those qualities that a Spectre needed, and he had therefore put in his recommendation to consider Nihlus for Spectre candidacy. At the time, the fact that the younger turian was a misfit among his peers hadn't bothered him much; it was to be expected, after all. The same qualities that defined a Spectre made such a person rather unfit to remain and function properly within the strict confines that normal turian military set upon them.  
>And the streak of independence the soldier was displaying fit the requirements of a Spectre just as well. True, a Spectre was bound by the Council's orders, but the way they executed those orders was up to the individual. They always had to be responsible for their own decisions, and had to be confident enough to do so and comfortable with doing that.<br>So, a strong will was a normal and necessary quality in any Spectre candidate.

Unfortunately, training any such person required a lot of patience, and Saren had so far avoided this particular duty. He'd never accepted any trainee before, and he never had intended to do so. He didn't consider training anyone his function, he had made that clear from the beginning, and until now not even the question had come up again.  
>Besides, he simply didn't care for company and always worked alone, and that preference of his was well-known.<p>

With these facts firmly established, Saren really hadn't expected to be required to see to Nihlus' training personally when he had filed that recommendation, but for some reason this time the Council had insisted this time, and there had been no way to refuse with any semblance of grace. His options had been very limited: he could either withdraw his recommendation, which would be an admission of a mistake making it in the first place, or he could see this through and prove that his evaluation of the young soldier's abilities was correct. In any case, he'd been outmanoeuvred, and that annoyed him most.

He hated being weighted down by anyone, he hated having to explain himself, and more than anything else, he hated being questioned.  
>And Nihlus, of course, was questioning his decisions all the time, and he wasn't even bothering to show proper respect about it either.<br>It was infuriating.  
>It had only been days, but Saren already missed being on his own again, which meant having enough quiet around him to hear himself think, and enforcing that quiet with heavy weaponry if threats and his carefully maintained and well deserved reputation of unpredictable violence didn't suffice.<br>He didn't have much patience with people at the best of times, and this wasn't one of those. It remained to be seen how long his patience would hold out under the strain. He once again reminded himself that, sadly, it was against proper etiquette to shoot one's trainee for being insufferable.

This latest disagreement now was about tactics. Nihlus wanted them to split up and circle around the perimeter to either find another entrance to the base or at least find a good spot to hide and get at the backs of any pirates who would show up to meet Saren's straight-on approach.  
>The idea wasn't bad, nor was it something Saren himself hadn't considered, but Saren didn't know his trainee's abilities yet, much less trust into them enough to risk his life on them. Therefore he had simply dismissed the suggestion out of hand.<br>In a proper turian soldier, this would have been the end of it. In Nihlus, who apparently didn't know enough about discipline to spell the word correctly, it had started a rather heated declaration that Nihlus knew what to do, was more than capable of doing his part, and insisted that Saren at least gave a reason to his decision not to take his suggestion.

"I wasn't aware that I had asked your opinion." Saren stated coldly. "But to clarify, I have no intention to let you sneak off and attempt any more complicated tactics before I know your abilities and can be certain that you can be counted upon to make a difference in our favour instead of endangering me and our mission."

Nihlus scoffed at that, but before he could again voice his disagreement, Saren cut across. "This discussion is ended. You will either follow my lead and do as you are told, or your training ends here and now, and I will most certainly not allow you back on my ship again."

Given that Saren's ship was the only way off this asteroid, since they had waited for their targets' small fleet to leave before striking, that threat of being abandoned on a airless asteroid in the middle of nowhere held enough weight to make even Nihlus shut up.  
>Saren had to console himself with the thought that that was at least a sign of basic intelligence.<p>

The younger turian lowered his head slightly, and Saren chose to accept that as sufficient for the moment. He didn't miss the angry gleam in the other's eyes, clearly visible even through the helmet of his hard-suit, and the rebellious set of his shoulders, though, and knew that they would have to have a serious discussion about respect and proper conduct later on. He wasn't looking forward to this, not at all.  
>He snorted and lead them on forward.<p>

Despite their targets being holed up in a fortified base, and the two of them being outnumbered, this wasn't a mission Saren considered all that risky. The pirates had nowhere to run to, no ship to flee on, and by all counts there were less than eight of them still in the base.  
>Usually Saren wouldn't even have bothered with them, but piracy in general annoyed him, and it was a good start to evaluate his trainee's abilities in real combat. The chances of his trainee getting himself killed in this one were very low, unless Nihlus did something exceedingly stupid. Which would, of course, disqualify him as a candidate in any case.<p>

He didn't bother about stealth either, so when they were spotted, and the first of the pirates came out guns in hand to meet them, he calmly chose a spot from where he had a good view of the battlefield, went into cover and gestured for Nihlus to go on.

Nihlus threw him a disbelieving look. "Are you serious?"

"I am supposed to evaluate your performance." Saren replied coldly, annoyed at having to state the obvious again. "So. Feel free to proceed at your own pace."

Nihlus snarled, but soon was too busy trying not to get hit and focused his concentration on fighting and remaining alive. He cursed under his breath, then sensibly targeted his anger at their opponents.

From time to time Saren aimed his sniper rifle to place a few well-aimed shots, taking care that Nihlus didn't notice him evening the odds a bit, but mostly he stayed back, wanting to see what the young soldier could do.

He continued to observe Nihlus' progress critically, especially as the pirates brought a hidden defence turret into play. By Nihlus' rather unprofessional yet descriptive curse at that, he deduced that Nihlus hadn't spotted the camouflaged structure before, but his reflexes as he evaded were most satisfactory.

After a while, as the sounds of battle quieted down, Saren nodded to himself. His new trainee didn't handle himself too badly in a fight. That came as no surprise given the contents of his service record, of course, but Saren didn't put much trust in those, ever. After all, he knew what his own said.

"I'm done here. Everything's nice and safe, so you can come out now." Nihlus' voice held barely restrained disgust and anger.

Saren shook his head again. This was shaping up to be a real test of his patience.


	2. Chapter 2

This training thing, Nihlus felt, had started out badly and was going downhill real fast. He let his head fall back against the bulkhead in the empty hold of Saren's ship where he had retreated to cool down before his temper made him do something he was almost certainly bound to regret later. Sitting here was hardly comfortable, but vastly preferable to giving in to temptation and hitting his superior. Well, maybe.

He should have known that that chance at becoming a Spectre was too good to be true. It always went this way. In the end, whatever he did, and however well he did it, he fell short of expectation. In a way, this was even worse than in the several units he'd been assigned to before. There, it had always only been his attitude that had gotten him into trouble, that, and the fact of his less than distinguished origins. He'd never made any friends there. His upbringing on a merc outpost far outside what was considered civilised space had irrevocably formed him, and he was simply too different. He always had been a survivor, a ruthless fighter, and his respect and loyalty weren't automatically given but had to be earned. He also always had been a better fighter and much better tactician than his so-called peers.  
>Of course he hadn't fit in there.<br>Now, he was stuck with a stone-cold demanding bastard of a Spectre who seemed to consider him a complete idiot, refused to listen to any suggestion he made and never deigned to explain any of his actions.  
>They had gotten into firefights several times now, and Saren's behaviour had made it clear to him that he didn't really care whether Nihlus survived or not. Even worse, he deliberately seemed to manoeuvre Nihlus into difficult situations, just to see how Nihlus was going to get himself out of them.<br>It had to be some sort of test of his abilities, and Nihlus understood that, but being set up into life-threatening situations was taking it too far, in his not-so-humble opinion.

It wasn't even that he had no respect for Saren. In fact, quite the opposite was the case. From what he'd read of the Spectre's personnel file and service record, he was one of the best, and Nihlus understood that. He knew he should be grateful for this chance that he was given here.  
>In a way he was, even if he knew very well that Saren didn't want him here, and he'd have to prove himself somehow to the Spectre to change that.<p>

Nevertheless, he'd never been a good turian who ducked his head and bared his throat to any who claimed to be his superior. And he didn't take well to being treated with contempt or being dismissed simply because his lower rank gave less weight to his suggestions. That was against his nature, even if it landed him in trouble again and again.

It had gotten so bad that he had to really try and keep himself from doing anything worse than reply with a certain lack of respect when he even heard the Spectre's voice. It grated on his ears, flat and cold with a permanent disdainful twinge, and no subtones at all. It was impossible to tell anything about what Saren was thinking or feeling from just his voice. Granted, that might be just a side-effect of his job, but it was very unpleasant nevertheless. And Saren seemed to go out of his way to increase his discomfort.

He looked up as he heard the footsteps of the other turian come closer. Saren was leaning against the door, regarding him with a rather appraising look that, of course, raised his hackles. He managed not to snarl, but it took effort. He also didn't fool himself into believing that Saren couldn't precisely tell his mood. Well, that was just too bad for Saren, then.

"How good are you at hand-to-hand combat?"

The question surprised him, but Nihlus snorted. "My instructors at the academy didn't complain too much. Why, do you want to see for yourself?"  
>His words were deliberately insolent, his tone even more so, and his undertones would have landed him in a world of trouble even with someone of equal military rank. For that alone, Saren would be quite justified do apply whatever disciplinary measure he deemed appropriate. Nihlus didn't care, not anymore.<p>

If any of this angered the Spectre, he didn't show any sign of it. "Yes."

Nihlus was rather certain he didn't hide his surprise well enough, but resolved not to care. Instead, he gave the Spectre an appraising look of his own. Saren had shed his armour, and the black underarmour he wore was tight enough to show that he wasn't as heavy-built as one would have assumed, given his appearance in armour. They were about the same height, but Saren was actually more lean than muscular and probably weighted less than him.  
>Nihlus didn't make the mistake of thinking that an automatic disadvantage, however. It just meant that the Spectre probably relied on speed and skill more than raw strength.<p>

That could be interesting. And of course, the chance to get in a good strike or three at the infuriating pale bastard was a quite appealing prospect.  
>He nodded, rising to his feet.<br>He was good at hand-to-hand. He'd had needed to learn, in order to survive his childhood.  
>"What rules?" he asked, starting to strip out of his armour, too. If his estimation of the Spectre's style held true, he'd need speed more than protection.<p>

Saren snorted dismissively. "This isn't a duel, and we're not at the academy. No rules. Just try to take me down if you can."

Now that was irregular. Nihlus shrugged. "Fine with me, but I hope you aren't going to blame me if you get hurt."

The Spectre laughed, a sound devoid of any real humour. "Hardly. If you manage to injure me I probably deserve it."

Well, if Saren wanted to play it that way, Nihlus was more than happy to oblige. He pointedly dropped his gloves on his discarded armour and kicked off the thin boots that were part of his undersuit. He half expected either a reprimand at that or at least Saren to likewise bare his hands and feet to be able to bring his own claws into play, but the Spectre just cocked his head to one side in a thoughtful manner, and remained silent, waiting.  
>Arrogant bastard.<p>

Nihlus internally shrugged, then his stance changed as he warily stepped closer. Saren made no move at all, just watching him, so he snorted and lashed out, trying a tentative hit on the other's torso.  
>He found himself blocked immediately, struck with the other hand, was blocked again and leaped back.<br>Saren didn't follow up, but went into some defensive position again.  
>Interesting. Nihlus darted in again, testing the Spectre's defense and speed again, jumped back after another quick series of move and counter-move.<br>He wasn't stupid enough to commit himself before he had a good idea what his opponent was capable of.  
>He tried a faster hit at the Spectre's collar, found his arm swatted aside almost casually and then had to duck another almost casual swipe.<p>

Saren gave a contemptuous snort. "Not very promising so far." he stated in a bored voice.

Nihlus suppressed a grin. If that was supposed to goad him into becoming reckless, it wasn't working. "So sorry to disappoint" he quipped, trying another rather obvious feint that was blocked regardless. It told him enough. Saren, for all his impression of boredom, wasn't taking any chances.

Time to take this up a notch, then.

He went at Saren again, almost full speed now, tried to grapple, was slapped back as expected and turned that move into a vicious kick at the Spectre's knee joint.  
>It was only a grazing hit, the Spectre's reactions being as fast as he had calculated, but it made Saren twist aside, and lose his bored expression.<p>

Nihlus gave him a fierce grin, and then it became a proper fight.  
>Their moves seemed to blur, as both of them abandoned the pretence of this being a polite sparring match.<br>They traded blows in lightning-quick exchanges, then broke apart again, circling each other.

He'd been right, the Spectre was fast and quite agile, and when Nihlus switched to the not very reputable but quite effective fighting style he'd used back home on a daily basis, he found that Saren knew these tricks, too.  
>Of course, Nihlus thought with a touch of smugness, that didn't mean he was immune to any of it. A sweep with a leg spur hooked the Spectre's foot, not enough to down him, but enough to throw him off balance. Nihlus took a hard blow to the right mandible for that, shrugged it off and drove his knee into the Spectre's midsection. That blow connected just fine, and with his full weight behind it, it was more than enough to at least knock the breath from Saren's lungs.<p>

The temptation to close in and do some real damage was almost overwhelming, but he was too experienced to give in to that. Saren was too capable a fighter to be treated with less than caution and patience, and he wouldn't let his own temper get the better of him and thus give the damned Spectre another advantage.  
>Instead he kept his distance, following up with a turning kick at the Spectre's side. The talons on his foot tore through Saren's undersuit, scraping against the plates underneath. If Saren had twisted aside, as would have been the normal and instinctive response, his talons would have snagged the edge of one of the long plates on his side and torn it loose, probably tearing his side open in the process.<br>It wasn't an immediately lethal move, but something that wasn't used in sparring, ever. Saren's response was, instead, just angling back, turning the vicious attack into a glancing blow. He recovered his balance in a heartbeat, but didn't even strike for Nihlus' leg as he half would have expected.

For a moment they stood, measuring each other.  
>Nihlus hadn't expected that trick to work completely, but that hadn't been the point. It had been to let the Spectre know that Nihlus was very willing to treat this as a real fight if prompted, that Saren's higher status wouldn't keep him from getting hurt unless he redefined this exercise, and, mostly of all, that Nihlus had had it for now. He wasn't a raw recruit that Saren could play his games with.<br>I'll follow your orders, but don't blame me if that isn't quite what you expected.

He stood, waiting, his expression closed but challenging. There was nothing in the Spectre's expression that he could read, nothing in his stance but a very slight imbalance that might mean that Saren was favouring his recently-struck side. Nihlus didn't quite snort with contempt. He wasn't going to fall for that, either. He knew he had scored a hit, but not enough to warrant even that vague reaction. He waited, wondering whether Saren would call any rules to this after all, and then Saren just gave him a nod, straightened up and attacked.

He snarled as the Spectre was suddenly too close, putting him on the defense, and the smart move would have been to retreat, but this was getting too strange, and he took the risk and stood his ground.  
>He'd been right about another thing, too: Saren relied on skill and speed, not strength, because he didn't try any single potential takedown move, but a series of precise, fast strikes at different vulnerable points, meant to incapacitate.<p>

Saren was fast, but quite within Nihlus' abilities to evade or block, and he knew those tricks too, and proved it by blocking the seriously meant ones, then he took one that was simply meant as a distraction, which hurt, but not too badly, and immediately aimed a straight blow at the Spectre's throat, forcing him to retreat and breaking his pattern.

Another nod, and the Spectre closed in again.

He ducked away under a swipe that was now meant seriously and caught the follow-up strike, his claws closing around the Spectre's left wrist, registering the feel of his claws sliding past plate and piercing skin at the back of his mind. He was done playing.  
>With a sharp yank, he pulled him in, intent on finishing this, but something was wrong, because there was no resistance at all when there should have been the Spectre's weight behind it, and he was off-balance for a moment.<br>Too long.  
>A sharp clash of spurs, a not even so hard kick against a his ankle, and he was meeting the ground, hard, managing to twist onto his side as Saren tore free of his grip.<br>Nihlus didn't waste any time trying to figure out how the hell the Spectre had done that, but accepted the fact that he had, and reacted accordingly.  
>Instinct as well as training told him the imperative was to get back on his feet as fast as possible, and he turned sitting up into a forward lunge at Saren, even as he tried to get his feet under himself. His claws struck true, but Saren twisted somehow, using his own momentum against him, and he went flying and landed flat on his back, the Spectre over him, his face still without any expression.<br>Nihlus snarled, and slammed his forehead into the other's face, drawing some visceral satisfaction from the resulting sound, and almost managed to toss his opponent off, then a precise blow to the side of his head stunned him for a second or two.  
>In a fight with someone like this Spectre, that was all that was needed.<br>The next thing he knew, he was down, upper body twisted to force his right side flat to the floor, his arm pinned by the Spectre's hand in an uncomfortable angle to keep his shoulder to the ground, his left leg kept immobile down by a foot on his thigh. Then Saren unhurriedly leaned his knee into Nihlus' side, right onto that gap between plates that appeared when his torso was twisted that far, and Nihlus winced despite himself. Right now, that only hurt, and made breathing more difficult. More pressure, and he'd lose consciousness.

Despite that, his first impulse was still to try and toss Saren off, because giving up was something he never seemed to have gotten the hang of, but the Spectre very deliberately drew off his right glove and set curved, long black claws against his neck in an almost casual threat, and that made him reconsider that course of action.  
>No sensible turian kept the claws on their fingers long like that. That was what battle gauntlets were for, anyway. The risk for injury to anyone else was too great, otherwise. Despite all of their military discipline, even Hierarchy turians still sometimes settled disputes with personal duels, however strictly refereed, and when a turian's blood was up with fighting, they tended to forget any restraint. Hence that restriction. Nihlus' own claws were, of course, clipped to civilised standards, and while they did have points and could in a pinch double as weapons against species with a softer hide than turians, they couldn't do any immediately lethal damage against another turian. He could kill with his bare hands, of course, but that required technique. He certainly couldn't pierce another turian's plates with his bare hands. Saren apparently could do that without needing any gauntlets.<p>

No turian who was still sane and not a complete loner would keep claws like that. He lifted his head to stare at the Spectre and share this observation, because keeping silent was another thing he'd never quite learned.

Then he met Saren's strangely calm expression, and something in him went still and scared at what he found in the other's eyes. There was no anger, no triumph or satisfaction, no emotion at all from the fight, just a clear, calculating emptiness that measured him and didn't miss anything.  
>There were traces of blue on his face where Nihlus hat scored hits on him, probably with his claws at his last lunge, and every normal turian would have reacted in some way to that. Saren didn't even seem to notice, much less care.<br>There was nothing at all in his expression that Nihlus could relate to. It was like being faced with a completely alien creature that only by chance looked like a turian, but whose motivations and thoughts were too strange to understand.  
>He hadn't been afraid of Saren before this.<p>

His instinct told him to submit, offer his throat in that primitive gesture that would settle this fight, probably damage his pride and social standing in a bad way but hold off any further attack in a normal turian, but he fought it. Nihlus knew with a perfect, frightening certainty that nothing he could do now would have any impact on Saren's actions. He was certain that Saren would just ignore any surrender if he chose to, simply because there was no corresponding instinctive response in him that would make him turn away. No, this one wasn't sane.  
>He wasn't ashamed of being scared, because insanity was something to be rightfully afraid of. It wouldn't change his actions, though.<br>He wasn't going to beg, and if that pale-faced madman was going to injure or kill him for that, then so be it.  
>It went against anything that his instincts told him, but he wouldn't acknowledge defeat like this, so he gritted his teeth, ignored the black, sharp claws on his neck and gave Saren his best defiant snarl.<p>

Nothing in Saren's expression changed in the least as brushed those claws over his neck in a careless, light touch that was deceptively gentle. Nihlus' eyes widened, and his breath hitched. It was an ambiguous touch, the meaning very much dependant on context. In a confrontation, it was a serious but subtle threat. In another context, it would have been almost seductive, a request for him to submit in another way altogether.  
>Neither was appropriate, chances were that neither was meant seriously, and Saren was playing some damned mind-game here for his own reasons. This was intended to scare and confuse him further, nothing else. In another turian, it probably would have worked. With Nihlus, all it did accomplish was to really piss him off, enough that there was simply no room left for any fear. He never had taken well to being toyed with.<p>

"Go to hell," he snarled, the tips of Saren's claws still quite prominent at his neck. He ignored them, staring up at Saren, holding that eerie pale gaze with the strength his anger gave him.

To his surprise, there suddenly was amusement and a hint of satisfaction in the Spectre's strange eyes, familiar if distant emotion displacing that blankness, and Saren withdrew his hand and took his weight off Nihlus' chest.  
>He came to his feet far too lightly for Nihlus' taste, and stepped back, giving him space, but Nihlus already was up in a crouch again, having rolled away and to his feet immediately as soon as Saren had relaxed his grip on him.<br>He was still breathing hard, but he now was more certain than ever that he couldn't trust the Spectre as far as he could throw him, and he wasn't going to turn his back on him just yet. This had been some sort of test, he realised, although of what, precisely, he couldn't tell. And he couldn't even tell if that blank insanity in the Spectre's eyes had been feigned or not, whether the emptiness or the amusement were real.

The Spectre seemed quite calm, apparently not even noticing his left wrist, where Nihlus had left puncture wounds in the seams between plates. That had to hurt, and he should have at least less mobility in that hand because there had to be some nerve trauma, at least, but he showed no sign of even any discomfort. His stance was perfectly relaxed.  
>Saren gave him a vaguely puzzled look, as if he had no idea why he was reacting that way, then stated in a calm voice "We're done for now." He turned as if to go.<p>

Nihlus stared at him, incredulous. "That's it?"

The Spectre turned back, his head cocked to one side inquiringly. "What do you mean?"

"What was the point of this? Apart, of course, from proving to me that you're stronger and meaner and the better fighter?"

"There's no need in proving anything we both know to be true." Saren replied, carelessly.

"So what else was the point? And what would you have done if I had surrendered?"

Saren snorted. "You have a perfectly serviceable mind of your own. Learn to use it. Figure it out."

Nihlus ground his teeth in frustration. "That's not an answer."

"No, it's not. It's a task I just set you." He seemed to consider for a moment, then added "Take as long as you want with it. If you're sure about your answer, tell me. If it's the correct one, I'll teach you the move just I used to take you down."

Nihlus considered. "And if it's not?" He'd at least learned some caution.  
>Saren shrugged. "Then the only thing you'll learn from me is that there are no second chances." He turned again and left without any further word.<p>

Nihlus shook his head and started swearing, low but heart-felt.  
>His so-called mentor was, without any doubt, definitely insane.<br> 


	3. Chapter 3

"What do you mean, you don't know how to override a level four security lock?" Saren stared at his trainee in blank disbelief.

It was bad enough that the contact they had been come to meet at this warehouse in one of the marginally better districts of Omega had obviously lured them into a trap and locked them in. Saren really hated when anyone tried that trick on him, although part of him had expected something like that to happen. After all, this was Omega, not part of Council space and in a constant state of violence and anarchy By now there almost certainly was a number of low-life bearing grudges and heavy weapons already on the way to meet them, but that also was only to be expected. It was that admission by his trainee was the part that took the Spectre by surprise.

Nihlus met his eyes with a furious green stare of his own. "I'm not a tech expert or engineer. You read my file, and you know my training only included basic engineering. Where else would I have learned?"

Saren shook his head impatiently. "Then what would be your way of getting out of traps like these? Set explosive charges?"

The younger turian snarled. "If that's what it takes."

Saren resisted the urge to gouge his claws either over the door, which would have just made an unpleasant noise, or his trainee's face, which would have meant at least more paperwork in the end. He flared his mandibles in annoyance, but acknowledged that this wasn't the time for further discussion and bent over the lock's interface.  
>"Useless." he growled under his breath as he started to hack the lock's controls.<p>

"Useless, am I?" his trainee snapped. "If you think that, then why even consider me for Spectre training?"

"You showed at least potential. I thought you could learn." Saren stated in a clipped voice that should have ended the conversation.

"Of course I could. If you'd take the time to explain yourself every now and then, I'd even have a chance."

"You mean to tell me you can't learn from observation? You really think that everyone will always pause and take the time to spell things out to you?" Saren snapped.

"I can learn from observation, if I know the context. With most of what you do, or expect me to do, I don't."

Saren growled, but kept his tone even with some effort. "This isn't the time for this."

"Of course not." Nihlus replied, making not even a token attempt to keep the bitterness out of his voice. "It never is."

The Spectre didn't acknowledge his words, but his mandibles lowered, exposing his teeth in a silent, angry snarl. He finished his work and hit the interface with perhaps a bit more force than strictly necessary, and the lock switched to open.

"Let's go." he said with a sideways look at his trainee, and for once, said trainee obeyed silently.

They made their way back to Saren's ship without being challenged any further. Nihlus hadn't offered any further comments, and Saren had been lost in thought, going over this failed mission in his mind.

Maybe he was going about all of this in a less than efficient way. He had to admit to himself that he had no previous experience in teaching anyone, in any subject. His own experiences in learning probably weren't universally applicable, either. As loath as he was to admit it, even only to himself, he might have made a mistake there and there were only two options: discontinue this training immediately, and admit failure, or correct it.  
>Saren rarely admitted failure. He wasn't about to do that now, not before he had exhausted every other option. This just would take some more work, on both of their sides, and he wasn't adverse to that. It hadn't been his choice in the first place, but now he was committed to this project, and he'd see it through, with the same single-mindedness and lack of care about collateral damage as was his approach to any other mission he accepted.<br>He never did anything half-way. This here could be no difference, he supposed.

And like any mission it was hard work, harder than anticipated. Saren considered the problem of his trainee's difficult character with the same distant, analytical mindset he applied to any other mystery he was trying to solve or operation he was trying to plan. Nihlus was stubborn as hell, and his response to being pushed in any was was to push back just as hard. He stood his ground, even and especially against Saren, but so far it was the courage of someone who had nothing left to lose. Courage stemming from desperation was often enough to get out of immediate peril, but it wasn't enough to sustain one in the long run. He needed to replace that brash recklessness with calm confidence. It was possible to scare Nihlus, but fear apparently only strengthened his resolve. So did physical pain, for that matter. Trying to beat any sense into the younger turian was just a waste of energy. Nihlus had proven himself to be quite intelligent, Saren had been relieved to find, even to an unexpected degree, but for all his experience in surviving among others who were just as unpredictable and undisciplined in their tempers he wasn't very good at observing and reading others. There was a lot more than simple mechanical skills that his trainee had to learn, and learn quickly, and Saren wasn't quite sure yet how to accomplish that, or whether it was even possible. What he was certain of was that Nihlus learned best and fastest with being challenged, but not threatened or forced into a specific course of action. The trick seemed to be to challenge him and leave the resources he needed within his reach, and leave him alone to find his own path.  
>It was a far more delicate and time-consuming approach than Saren had ever taken with anyone, and it annoyed him to have to take it at all, but it was the most efficient way of dealing with this. So that was what he would do.<p>

Nihlus was in his own cabin when Saren came looking for him. Saren had expected the younger turian to be sulking again, but instead he found his trainee sitting on his bunk, reading from a datapad. At his approach, Nihlus turned the datapad off and set it aside, giving a good impression at having been caught at doing something he wanted to hide. Saren wouldn't have cared in the least about what his trainee was doing in his spare time, but the glimpse of the data-pad's contents that he'd gotten before it had been turned off had neither been entertainment vids of any kind nor games or recreational literature. It had been schematics, and Saren had recognised them, of course. Not the best way to go about this, but he approved of the attempt. It reinforced his belief that the younger turian might worth all that trouble, after all. Saren was good at calculating the responses of other people, and Nihlus wasn't exactly difficult to read. Yet every now and then he did something that managed to surprise Saren, and that was a rare quality. He approved of that. Being unpredictable improved one's chances of survival, as he himself knew very well.

There was no need to let his trainee know how sharp his eyesight really was, though.

"If you get tired of whatever vids you're watching, you might try these." Saren said in a careless tone, tossing a couple of datapads on Nihlus' bunk. "You don't need to be a tech expert to override locks. You just have to understand the principle to subvert it. If I'm not mistaken the ship's VI should have several simulations left somewhere if you need some sort of visual aid or practice."  
>The simulations were up-to-date as well, since Saren had just downloaded and installed them, but Nihlus didn't need to know that either.<p>

Nihlus stared at him, clearly in equal measure surprised and wary, and Saren suppressed a sigh. That reaction was neither unexpected nor the wrong one, but it showed that Nihlus would need a lot more practice at reading situations and at keeping his own expressions less obvious.  
>"No, there's no trap or misinformation in the manuals I just gave you. A certain measure of paranoia is a necessary quality in this profession, but if you consider the situation further you will come to see that I have no reason to hinder your education and a good motive to advance it. I've kept you along for too long now to easily dismiss you as unsuitable. That would reflect badly on me, just as any mistakes or bad decisions you make while under my command. So it's in my best interest to have you learn, and learn quickly."<p>

The reasons he had just given might not be as strictly true as he had said, as there would be no consequences at all and no questions asked if he came up with some more hidden flaw in his trainee that rendered him unsuitable for the job. Still, the fact itself was true, he wanted Nihlus to learn and ultimately to succeed, and he briefly wondered if and when Nihlus would catch up to both the truth and the lie, and call him out on it.

When he did, it would mark another step in his progress.

"On another note, if you really don't understand any decisions I make, you are to ask, and I will explain." Nihlus' eyes widened in clear surprise, and Saren again suppressed a sigh at the certainty that there would be a lot of forced explanation in his immediate future. "I will answer your questions, but I will not tolerate any lack of respect, and I will not be provoked by you. Are we clear on that?"

"Yes. Of course," Nihlus said, his tone professional and with some deference, but as always his subtones spoke quite a different language.  
>You are so going to regret this.<p>

Saren found he was agreeing with that sentiment. He shook his head, tempted to add another warning, but then simply turned away and left.  
>Sometimes it was better to pick one's battles carefully.<p>

Besides, he had another more immediate task ahead, one he would take on on his own. There was a certain informant to hunt down that needed to be reminded that Saren took being led into a trap rather personal.  
>Saren flexed his claws as he gave in to a humourless, grim grin. Very personal, in fact.<br> 


	4. Chapter 4

Nihlus growled in annoyance and smashed the butt of his rifle into the yellow-streaked face of a turian guard. Apparently, the little wretch hadn't really considered that move from him, so the blow connected with a satisfying crack, and the man crumpled, probably alive, but out for the count for now. Slavery was something that went against all of Nihlus' notions of the proper order of things, and shutting down a ring of former mercs-turned-slavers that had tried their hand at capturing their merchandise still within Council space was something he probably would have done regardless of whether it was an official mission or not. Lack of personal freedom was something he himself never had been able to tolerate, so he did feel strongly about the subject in general.  
>To his vague surprise, Saren disapproved of the concept of slavery just as strongly, although he had dismissed Nihlus' reasons as sentimentality. He hadn't bothered to give his own reasons, and Nihlus, by now more experienced in how to handle his mentor's difficult character, hadn't pried further.<br>Odds were that he wouldn't like the answer, anyway.

Nihlus was already turning away, looking for Saren who was advancing on the last standing member of the group of slavers. The criminal was just a few steps away from the door to the cargo hold where the group had locked up their merchandise. Nihlus frowned. The last one was a human. What exactly the man was trying to do, Nihlus wasn't sure, but it probably didn't matter much anymore.

He threw a measuring look at Saren, and found him in the usual mood when dealing with humans, which meant angry, or rather, more angry than usual, and with a set to mandibles that promised very unpleasant things for the human.  
>Nihlus had seen before what that meant, precisely, and while he wasn't squeamish by anyone's reckoning and didn't even disapprove of certain interrogation methods on principle, he wasn't looking forward to a repetition of the experience. Nihlus understood ruthlessness, and violence in a moment of hot temper. He had no real understanding of the cold, precise, almost distant cruelty Saren had shown himself capable of, and he had no wish to understand that any further. He had thought that he knew what the galaxy was like, but even as a child on a nameless mercenary outpost outside of Hierarchy space, or during his time in the military, he hadn't seen the worst of it. As a Spectre trainee, he had wandered places he didn't want to remember, seen the depths to which intelligent life was capable of sinking, and while it had only reinforced his will to put an end to things like those, he felt that he could understand Saren's remote, cold and careless outlook on life better. It wouldn't be his way, and neither he would resort that casually to the methods Saren used, but it was an explanation. He had left it at that.<br>Maybe there even were situations where Saren's approach was the only one to yield any results. Nihlus had seen too much in the last few months to dismiss that possibility out of hand.

In this instance, however, it wasn't warranted. It wasn't that he felt sorry for the human, who probably more than deserved what was coming to him, but even so he didn't want to see Saren turning his full attention and creativity on the human criminal.  
>The human was lifting his rifle, far too slow to be any threat to the Spectre who would merely be further enraged by the action, and Nihlus raised his own rifle and rather calmly shot him in the head several times.<br>It was sensible to be certain, for more than one reason.  
>The merc collapsed, most of his head gone, and Saren spun around at him, snarling.<br>"What do you think you're doing?"

"Saving you some time." Nihlus replied, meeting the furious gaze of the Spectre. He didn't elaborate further, and from what he could read in his superior's expression, no further explanation was necessary. Saren knew very well why he had done that.  
>It was hardly the first time he had directly opposed Saren, but that didn't mean Saren had ever gotten used to that, or was inclined to let it slide. It didn't matter. He hadn't done it to provoke Saren, he had done that because he considered right.<p>

Saren snarled again, and for a moment Nihlus wasn't sure that the Spectre wouldn't lash out at him in pure frustration, but then Saren visibly and deliberately relaxed his stance, and his expression calmed and gave nothing away.  
>Nihlus wondered once again why Saren harboured such hate for the whole species. He only knew that it had something to do with the Relay 314 incident, but had no further details than that. He had asked, once, and Saren's reaction, while just short of actual violence, had convinced him not to do that again. Saren never welcomed personal questions, but this topic was well and truly better left alone with him, and that point had been made with enough force that Nihlus respected that. For now.<p>

But as ever, he wouldn't, couldn't stay silent, even as he fully realised that he might push things too far here.  
>"Don't you think enough time has passed since Shanxi, and you have wasted enough time hating a whole species for the actions of a few?"<p>

Saren's eyes flared bright, but his voice remained calm. "No. Not nearly enough."  
>Before Nihlus could question his behaviour any further, he turned away.<p>

"Since you seem so eager to show your sympathetic side today, you can wrap this up and deal with the captives by yourself. I'll see you back at the ship. Don't take too long."

Nihlus shook his head as he watched the Spectre just walk away. This wasn't entirely unexpected. Saren wasn't really the best choice when it came to rescue operations, and he had assumed that the rescue part of this mission would be his task anyway.  
>He didn't mind. Rescue missions were fine with him. He knew, of course, that what they were doing was to keep the galaxy as a whole safe, but sometimes the bigger picture was too abstract, and he needed to see for himself that he was doing something worthwhile. It kept things in perspective, kept him sane.<p>

As he approached the locked hold, he briefly thought about Saren, who never took the time to see the aftermath of his missions, whether positive or negative, and about what ways the Spectre used to stay if not sane then functional. And whether he was successful at that. 


	5. Chapter 5

Saren wasn't much given to swearing to express frustration, but even so he did mutter a few choice phrases under his breath as he deposited the unresponsive form of his trainee on the biobed in the small med bay of his ship.  
>He stripped off the other turian's partially ruined armour with cool efficiency, detached the part of his underarmour that covered his upper body, then turned him on his stomach to examine the other turian's upper back.<p>He hissed in displeasure at the sight of the plates along Nihlus' spine, from mid-back to waist level. In a healthy turian they formed a smooth, overlapping, even line. In this one, they were partially ripped loose from the skin beneath and completely out of alignment. There was some blood from where the plates had lost their connection with the skin below, or where the edges of dislodged plates had turned inwards and cut into flesh. None of the plates were cracked through, though, which was a good sign. None were ripped loose too far to prevent their reattaching, which was even better.<br>Plates could grow back, but it took time, and there always was scarring.

Saren shook his head, annoyed, and ran another scan to see whether there was any significant damage in the skeletal structure below as well.  
>The scan came up clean on that, which was at least something, since right now they were a good day's worth of travel away from any decent medical facility that deserved the name.<br>The Spectre bit down on his annoyance. As much as he would have liked to lay the blame for this at his trainee's feet, it hadn't been Nihlus' fault that the hideout of a small group of thieves specialising in restricted bio-tech they had been hoping to catch had been deserted, except for the sole YMIR mech.  
>Neither of them had expected a high-class military mech in a place like this, and while they had taken it down, Nihlus had gotten caught and literally stomped on by it before Saren had managed to disable it completely. His armour had held off the worst damage, as it would seem, but he hadn't escaped unscathed.<p>

Saren slapped another analgesic patch against his trainee's neck, then prodded the area around the misaligned scales experimentally. There was quite a lot of swelling already, which meant he had to realign them quickly before things got worse.

"It's not that I object to that sort of thing on principle, but shouldn't you at least buy me a drink beforehand?" Nihlus' voice was groggy, and rather faint, and Saren was, as often in his dealing with his trainee, caught between annoyance and relief. He'd have preferred the younger turian to stay unconscious for a bit longer, but he wasn't sure that another tranq patch wouldn't be too much for the other turian's already taxed system. He apparently was delirious enough as it was.

"Shut up and stay still." Saren replied.

"That mech..."

"I said shut up." Saren repeated, his tone getting sharper. "The YMIR's decommissioned. You're back on my ship. You suffered some damage to your back, and I'm trying to correct that, so it would be in your own best interest not to disturb me."

"Spirits." Nihlus sighed. "Do you have even an idea of what you're doing?"  
>Saren sighed, then took hold of two adjacent plates and tugged, hard. There was an audible crunching snap, and he felt Nihlus wince despite the painkillers before they slid into proper position.<br>"No." he replied in a biting tone. "I just read about it once, somewhere." Actually, Saren not only knew what he was doing, he was even quite adept at field medicine. It just wasn't a skill he often needed or employed.

"Yes. That's what I figured." Nihlus' voice trailed off again.

Saren didn't reply, but snapped another plate into alignment, and the younger turian swore quite colourfully. "You might want to save the more expressive phrases for later on." Saren commented helpfully. "Eight more plates to go."

Nihlus growled something Saren couldn't quite make out, and the Spectre decided to humour him. "What was that?" he asked, setting the next plate.

"I said I hope you at least are having fun." Nihlus groaned.

Saren blinked in mild confusion. "As a matter of fact, I'm not. Why would I?"

"Oh. Wrong assumption, then. My fault." There was a pause, and another snarled curse as Saren calmly continued his work. "I'm surprised that you even thought to rescue me."

Saren snorted. "I invested too much time in training you already to lose you to a YMIR mech. The prospect of the paperwork required to explain your untimely demise to the Council makes the alternative also appear a lot less appealing."

"Ow. And there I thought you did that because you liked me." Nihlus' tone gave an admirable suggestion of sarcasm.

Saren approved of the sarcasm, if nothing else. "You're delirious." he stated, "Maybe that second dose of painkillers was a bit too high for you." Two more plates straightened with an ugly sound.

"Too high? You have to be kidding. This feels like you're ripping out my spine."

"Stop complaining." Saren carefully hid his amusement. "You're lucky there's not more damage to your back. Next time, try not to get into close quarter combat with a YMIR mech. Or if you absolutely have to, at least watch where it puts down its feet."

Nihlus' reply was replaced by another low snarl. "Damnit, if that's supposed your friendly, upbeat side, it's no wonder you don't have many friends."

Saren decided that his trainee really wasn't quite in his right mind right now, and had even a good reason for that for once. He righted another pair of scales. "That's as careful as I can do this."

"I'd ask what you consider painful if that's you at your most careful, but I'm afraid I have already seen that, so I won't. Never could figure out just how insane you really are, and how much is pretend."

Saren shook his head again. "Keep wondering, then." A last wrenching creak that ended in a sharp crack made the younger turian dig his talons into the biobed, then Saren ran a claw over Nihlus' back again. There was some fresh blood from realigning the scales, but not much.  
>"Try to arch your back upwards. I want to see whether your mobility is still impaired or not."<p>

"Thanks, but no. I'm not even going to try-" The sentence ended in a strangled hiss-yelp as he shot up in reflex as Saren applied the tip of a sharp claw to a gap in the plates in Nihlus' side with scientific precision. Saren nodded in satisfaction as Nihlus sank down again, ignoring the very impolite, not to mention incorrect, observations about his person that the younger turian made not quite under his breath.

"It would appear that your mobility's restored." Saren commented in a level tone. "And your insinuations about my parentage are pure speculation and in fact very far off the mark." He applied some medigel to his trainee's back, then closed the whole area off with a rectangle of flexible, thin, self-adhesive bandage that immediately molded itself to the shape of the plates beneath. Hopefully, this would keep them in place and avoid any further slipping until they had fully reattached themselves to the tissue below. It should also help to keep the risk of infection down. Nihlus probably had several days of acute discomfort ahead of him, but he'd be back to his normal self soon enough.  
>There was a certain relief in that, Saren allowed. From a purely professional point of view, of course.<br>Somehow he had almost gotten used to the annoyance Nihlus was representing. On closer examination, that thought was disturbing.

"You'll be fit for duty again in a week or two. You can use that time to catch up on your more theoretical studies." he told Nihlus.  
>There was no immediate reply, and without thinking about it, he brushed the back of his fingers against Nihlus' mandible. It was just a calming gesture, warranted under the circumstances, and while it could be read as comforting, he trusted that Nihlus knew better than to do that.<p>

The younger turian relaxed.  
>"Which means you are going to bury me in paperwork, news reports and weapons manuals." Nihlus groaned, his subtones holding a lot more pain than they had when Saren had been realigning his spine plates, the Spectre noted with vague puzzlement. "Don't try to be comforting. Just don't. You're no good at it. Next time, just leave me, that will hurt me less in the end."<p>

Saren regarded his trainee silently and waited for a few beats.

Nihlus opened a bleary green eye, clearly worried. "You are aware that the last was a joke?" he enquired cautiously. "I wasn't being serious?"

The Spectre snorted. "If I'd taken anything you said since you woke up seriously, some wrenched spinal plates would have been the least of your worries. Now get some rest before I reconsider."

He left his trainee in the medbay, quite confident that Nihlus could take care of himself for now. Besides, he had some additional work to do. In truth, he hadn't intended to task Nihlus with filing paperwork and reading reports and manuals for the next few weeks. It would appear that Nihlus' expectations had been quite different, though, and so he would have to meet them. There were appearances to uphold and standards to maintain, after all.  
>And in addition to that, it amused him to do so.<br> 


	6. Chapter 6

The bar they were currently sitting in wasn't much by Citadel standards, but the lack of sophistication actually appealed to Nihlus. It reminded him of a time when his life had been admittedly harder but decidedly less complicated.  
>This was a friendly enough place without any pretence, the clientele was by the looks of them off-duty soldiers and C-sec, and the drinks were passable enough. It was by his reckoning a good place to unwind after their last mission.<p>Saren was as resistant to any attempts at friendly conversation as ever, but he was used to that by now, and the Spectre's silences didn't bother him much anymore. He surveyed the other customers, and a pair of asari in dress uniform at the bar momentarily caught his attention. One of them looked up unhurriedly, met his gaze and gave him a quick once-over.<br>Nihlus knew that he was quite handsome by his own species' standards, and while he wasn't vain about it, he had deliberately used that fact as yet another edge in his fight for survival early in life with the same ruthlessness that he'd applied to anything else he'd done then. Life in the military had, paradoxically, toned down that ruthlessness a bit, since there was no need for it anymore, but the fact remained that he rarely lacked for some temporary companionship if he was in the mood to enjoy himself in that way. Something about his colouration and his attitude apparently made him quite attractive to some aliens as well, and he was well used to that, too. He quite approved of inter-species relations on that level. This, at least, was one aspect of his life his Spectre training hadn't managed to expand upon much. He'd always been the adventurous sort, to try everything at least once. The asari inclined her head very slightly, a subtle invitation to approach if he chose to.

Nihlus contemplated the option, then looked at Saren as the Spectre gave a half exasperated, half amused snort. Saren had never commented about Nihlus' off-duty activities one way or another, which just meant that in this regard, at least, he was a good turian who ignored another one's private life as long as it didn't interfere with anyone's duties. Odds were, of course, that he wasn't being polite but simply completely disinterested. Therefore, that unexpected show of judgement came as a surprise. "What?"

"Those two are elite commandos. I hope you know what you're getting into if you decide to follow up on that."

Truth be told, he didn't know much about that specialisation, but he'd met enough asari military in the past and he prided himself on being quite familiar with the species, so he wasn't worried in the least. Nihlus laughed. "Oh, don't worry. I can take care of myself." He considered the pale-faced turian, who held a carefully polite but still doubtful expression, then decided he couldn't resist trying to get a raise out of his superior. "No need for you to feel left out, though. I'm sure I can invite one of them over for you."  
>He half expected a sharp comment or another, more direct reprimand at this dig, but Saren just shook his head in a distantly amused manner.<br>"I sometimes despair of you ever learning to think before you speak. Sadly, it would appear your speech will always be as blunt as your claws. Or were you intentionally trying to insult me by implying that I'm incapable of finding some company on my own or approaching anyone I take an interest in?"

Nihlus blinked. He'd never considered it before, but he realised that he had never actually seen Saren seeking anybody's company, not even just for some temporary stress relief. Of course, it just might be that he was just very discreet about it, but why he would do that was beyond Nihlus' imagination either. There was no shame in any of that, after all. He sighed. "No, I hadn't meant it like that. It was meant as a joke. Should have known better, you have no sense of humour whatsoever."

"Apparently." Saren replied, his tone dry.

"Well, that was only to be expected given your background, I suppose. Being born on Hierarchy worlds cripples your sense of humour early on. At least that's the best explanation I've found for it. And about my so-called blunt speech, you will certainly have noticed by now that not every turian has had the benefits of a high-class education from early on in their lives."

Saren had grown oddly still, and Nihlus threw him a confused look. A sharp retort would have been more in character now, but he just received a rather thoughtful look, as if Saren was weighting options and then came to a decision.

"That explanation of yours is based on an incorrect assumption." Saren said slowly. "You probably have read my personnel file, or at least as much as you have access to. I doubt it gives a planet of origin for me in there, nor much information about my personal background before I joined the military."

Nihlus tossed his head back, irritated. "Of course I have, and of course it doesn't. Most of that info is redacted, but it implies-"

Saren suddenly growled, interrupting him. "Implies." His pronunciation of the word was almost contemptuous. "You really, really should know better by now than to trust into anything that's written down in anyone's file or records." There was a clearly angry flash in his eyes now, and Nihlus felt a twinge of uneasiness.  
>"If you learn nothing else from me, at least learn this. Use your observation, your training, your mind and your instincts to tell what's true and what isn't. Continue to rely on appearances and written or spoken accounts, and it will get you killed if you continue in this profession."<br>His hand suddenly shot out, grabbing Nihlus' uniform at his collar and yanking him closer.  
>Nihlus was almost shocked by the suddenness of that. That wasn't part of Saren's normal behaviour.<br>His first reflex would have been to break the Spectre's grip, but something held him back. This wasn't an attack.

Strange light blue eyes held his, and Saren's voice was low and almost angry. "Use that mind of yours, and your eyes."

This was creepy, all of this was. Saren looked disturbing enough even from a distance with that odd colouration of his, and that rather uncommon fringe. Up close, disturbing became spooky, and these too-bright eyes hid a mind that was too sharp and too strange to have been formed by the Hierarchy's strict discipline from the beginning.  
>No markings. A much less social attitude then common in Hierarchy turians. A fighting style that was a strange mix of the formal techniques taught in the military and the dirty but effective tricks that mercenaries like those Nihlus had grown up among used. A cold willingness to do his duty, but always in the way he considered right. It didn't fit.<p>

"You don't come from a Hierarchy world." Nihlus said.

Saren growled faintly, but seemed to be waiting.

A background similar to his, maybe, but not the same. Something with even less structure than he had, something different.

"No independent colony either. Spaceborn." he said, before he could think better, then winced, already bracing for a blow. In Hierarchy space, this was a severe insult, the implication that any individual named thus had no loyalty to any place or group whatsoever. He should have worded it better, at least.  
>He already knew how Saren reacted to insults.<p>

Instead he was released with an almost careless push, then Saren nodded, satisfied. "There. That wasn't so hard, was it? Your instincts and your mind do work. That's a relief."

Nihlus blinked. He'd expected fury and maybe a slap to the head, not amusement. "You mean that's true? But your file-"

Saren waved a hand, impatient. "Files can be changed. Many times, in fact, and by different persons for different reasons. As for mine, the overall facts are mostly correct. The details probably are not. Once you start to distinguish yourself in service, the mere implication that you're however distantly related to one clan or another will be more than enough to make it an accepted fact. People always see what they want to see and are quite good at finding or making up other facts they twist to support their view. It's up to you whether you use that to your advantage or not. Probably someone will at some point turn up some record or another thought lost since the last civil war, and you'll suddenly find yourself having claim to some other name than the one you carry now. Somehow the best and most distinguished always end up connected to some major clan, and if necessary, history can and will be rewritten. Remember that and don't trust in written accounts so much." He seemed almost thoughtful. "You still seem to regard your lack of formal Hierarchy education a disadvantage, and I assume you have been told just as much by teachers and peers alike during your time at military academy and later. Repetition doesn't make a statement true, though. You grew up in an environment that kept your mind free of that imprint that our society imposes on its members for the common good. You're free to define by yourself what you are and what you're going to be. Once you can make yourself really see the truth of that, you'll find your path a much easier one."

"Speaking from personal experience there?" Nihlus asked, and damn if Saren wasn't right and he really was talking before he thought better of it, but he wasn't about to apologise either. He knew he was being defensive, because this was getting personal in a way that Saren had no business at all calling him out on, and he resented that in a instinctive way. It didn't occur to him until after a few seconds that Saren's behaviour was extremely off. He was indeed talking from personal experience, whether he admitted it or not, and without any condescension. He seemed to care enough to make a point here, and Nihlus didn't quite understand why.

Saren uncharacteristically refused to be insulted. "Partially, but probably less than you think. A sense of inadequacy concerning one's background is your problem, not mine, and never has been. It's groundless, anyway. It's just a personal observation, of course, but while the Hierarchy worlds produce excellent soldiers, most turian Spectres seem to have a less regular background. It would stand to reason. Independent thinking isn't exactly an encouraged quality in our society, as you very well know, and it's an absolute requirement for a Spectre. Where we come from doesn't matter. We aren't good soldiers who obey orders blindly, we're the ones who do whatever's necessary to get the results needed by the Council." He shrugged.  
>"Is that why you suggested me for Spectre candidacy? Because of a similarity in background?"<p>

Saren growled again, and from the set of his shoulders Nihlus could tell he was losing his patience with the topic. "No. The reason is the one I told you at the beginning, that I thought you had some qualities that would make a good Spectre and that you could learn. Nothing else. And there's less similarity between us than you might think, background or otherwise."  
>The last part held an unmistakable warning, but Nihlus had never heeded those before.<p>

"That's a relief to hear." he quipped, and to his surprise, the Spectre flared his mandibles in a wry grin.

"I couldn't agree more." He got up, throwing Nihlus a wry look. "I'll leave you to your amusements, then. You will probably do some things you will regret later, and it's almost certain that you will get into some sort of trouble. Try not to involve me, though. Whatever you get into, I don't want to hear about it." With that, he left.  
>Nihlus stared after him, wondering whether he had to amend his previous assessment of Saren's sense of humour, or lack thereof. He was still somewhat stunned by Saren's matter-of-fact reaction to basically being called a homeless, clan-less outcast.<p>

"Hello there." He looked up, finding that the asari had made her way over to his table. "So, has your friend deserted you for the evening?"

"He's not my friend." Nihlus replied, not allowing himself to pursue that train of thought further. "Just my superior." He twitched his mandibles, showing a flash of fangs in a quick smile as he regarded her appraisingly. "But I seem to find myself suddenly and unexpectedly alone, so your company is very welcome."

The asari laughed and took a seat at his table, and behind her, her companion approached as well, her steps and expression almost predatory.  
>Nihlus grinned and dismissed the uncomfortable subject of Saren and his strange games from his mind for something hopefully much more pleasant.<br> 


	7. Chapter 7

The rain had turned from the almost permanent fine mist into a steady drizzle that managed to reach them even under the thick canopy of trees.  
>Saren suppressed a growl.<br>He disliked extreme environmental conditions, and while he was good enough at tolerating both heat and cold, he really hated rain. Unfortunately, their latest mission required them to make their way on foot through almost impenetrable jungle, trying to run down an escaped convict, a former asari commando, who had gone to ground on this forsaken world on the edge of Citadel space.  
>Hunting escaped prisoners wasn't traditionally a job for a Spectre, but this one's identity was apparently problematic, and there were political implications that made it necessary to retrieve the escapee before she could make contact with any of her allies, and to bring her back alive.<br>Saren liked that last addition to their orders even less.

If it had been up to him, he'd shot the commando's ship to pieces on approach to the planet, instead of just damaging its drive, or at least hit the other ship's landing site - or crash site, as the case might be - with a few incendiary missiles instead of taking the trouble to look for a landing spot and then wander through thick rainforest to apprehend their quarry.  
>There was even a turian cruiser circling the planet now who would have been in perfect position to torch the site from low orbit. Or at least the surrounding forest, to cut off the asari's escape routes.<br>Sadly, that wasn't an option. Supposedly there were both environmental concerns and industrial interests about some resources that were collected from the rainforest that opposed Saren's more simple, and in his opinion elegant, solution.  
>Hence, their current trip through dripping green vegetation. Saren didn't like dense growth like that for any number of tactical reasons, but even more so, it simply made him uneasy. It was just something about the randomness of the terrain.<p>

Nihlus, on the other hand, was in an almost offensive good mood. The rain didn't bother him, the damp atmosphere that irritated Saren's lungs seemed to agree with him, and from the way he moved through the dense vegetation he almost seemed to belong here. Saren knew how to operate in this sort of terrain, but he was very much aware that with him it was something that had needed training, and still took conscious effort.  
>Nihlus was moving along casually, leaving almost no trace of his passing, his attention on his scanner that still insisted their target hadn't moved away from the ship. The scanner also indicated they getting close to the downed ship. With any luck, the commando would still be inside her ship and in no condition to resist them. Not that Saren believed in luck.<p>

"This is a nice break from the dismal places we usually go." Nihlus said, shaking excess wetness from his fringe with all signs of contentment. "Could be a bit warmer, but still, pleasant enough."

The thought of this humidity at even higher temperature was enough to make Saren shiver in disgust. "I take it you were born in some jungle like that," he said sourly.

"Born, no. Raised, most definitely. So before you feel you have to make any more snide comments on this, let me spare you the trouble. Yes, it feels a bit like home, and no, I'm not going to feel ashamed about that, regardless of what you say." He gave Saren a quick look, humour sparkling in his green eyes. "And you're not going to spoil it for me, however badly you hate this jungle. Or jungles in general. Or the whole universe and life in general." Still grinning, he turned his head away again and continued on his way.

Saren shook his head, not even trying to reply to that. He had fallen back a bit, letting Nihlus take the lead, as he had often done during the last missions.

He pondered Nihlus' reply to his dig, and found it, on the whole, quite satisfactory. Nihlus had calmed down a lot lately, and it was no longer so painfully easy to get a rise out of him. He'd probably never quite lose that attitude, and that tendency to come over as lacking respect, but that wasn't really a problem. Both as a fighter and as a tactician, he'd shown enough growth that Saren couldn't find much fault with either anymore. He'd do well to shift the focus of his training to other aspects soon, Saren realised. Nihlus, as he was now, would excel in any specialist unit he'd be assigned to. But as a Spectre, he needed more than just those skills.  
>He had to learn how this galaxy worked, who the major players and their goals were, what rules there were and when and how to break those.<p>

Part of his mind was scanning the surrounding jungle for any signs of trouble, but the rest of it was already busy planning in how to best make his trainee learn those important skills.  
>He was focused enough on planning that he even forgot the rain.<p>


	8. Chapter 8

Nihlus had been trying to be professional about it, he really had. But this, finally, was too much.  
>"I give up." he declared, trying to keep the whimper out of his voice. "If I have to read one more celebrity gossip article, I'm going to throw myself out of the airlock. That will be preferable to the brain rot that I can feel setting in from reading this."<br>This had to be one of the most bizarre tasks Saren had ever set him.

They were en route back to the Citadel, a trip that would take them several days, and since they'd hit deep space, Saren presented him with a list of entertainment magazines and told him to read up on the latest issues.  
>He hadn't been familiar with any of them, but the titles hadn't been very promising, and the contents had been worse. High society gossip. Celebrity scandals. Wild speculations about the various private lives of well-known politicians. Vids of presumably compromising and embarrassing situations featuring persons of society fame, complete with lurid and inaccurate descriptions and commentary. A touch of completely absurd conspiracy theories.<br>Useless, all of it. It was beyond him how anyone could read any of this out of their own free will.  
>What sort of person cared who the latest vid star slept with or what the asari Councillor wore when off-duty? There was no useful information in any of this.<p>

He had endured this for four days now, hoping to at some point finally figure out what Saren wanted him to do there, but he had reached his limit.  
>A gun to the head was preferable to continuing this. Maybe Saren had just come up with another inventive way of torturing him.<br>Saren looked up from the nav terminal where he had been looking through star charts. What he was looking for, if anything, Nihlus had no idea.  
>"What precisely are you complaining about?"<p>

"Why are you making me read this mess of completely drivel?" Nihlus pointed at his own terminal almost accusingly, which currently proudly displayed an article about Councillor Tevos' supposed tastes in clothing meant for private settings. Complete with slightly blurred pictures that just managed not to show the subject's face clearly enough for proper identification, which left just enough room for doubt. That was probably done deliberately to avoid instant legal consequences, he supposed.  
>Well, he didn't mind the pictures so much, but it was about the principle of the matter.<p>

Saren looked at it, as if he had no idea what Nihlus was talking about. "You safely can ignore this one." he said after briefly scanning the article. "It's not true, and the pictures are fakes."

Nihlus suppressed a groan and resolved not to think about how Saren would know what sort of undergarments Councillor Tevos wore, or how he would be qualified to judge whether the images supplied depicted the asari Council member or not. And he would not ask. He just wouldn't.  
>It was just a trick, anyway. Saren was just trying to get him off-balance again, and he wasn't going to fall for something that simple.<p>

"Why make me do this?" Nihlus repeated. "It's all lies or at least deliberate misdirection and inaccuracies."

"Precisely." Saren replied calmly. "But it's also what a large portion of the population in this part of space is interested in, and will readily believe. Sometimes it's so much easier to generate a distraction or redirect someone's attention than use brute force. And sometimes the mere mention of a rumour, without even the implication of blackmail, will change someone's mind to become more cooperative." It made a certain sort of sense to Nihlus. "Why would this even matter to anyone? Just goes to show again that this galaxy's mostly populated by complete idiots." he grumbled.

Saren didn't even answer this one. There were some truths the two of them did agree upon.

Nihlus growled and turned back to his terminal, then paused. "I've never seen you read that sort of thing." he said.

Saren snorted. "I should hope not."

"Then how-" Nihlus growled again, as realisation dawned. "You have some sort of VI to go through all this crap."

Saren's look was completely blank. "Do I?"

"That's the only reasonable explanation." Nihlus stated, refusing to back down. "You would never expose your mind to that. It's probably even this ship's VI."

The Spectre considered, then nodded. "Took you long enough to figure out." he said, but with a hint of amusement. "I think we can leave this topic behind, then, and move on to galactic politics. On the whole, that will be a lot worse than this."

Nihlus checked his first impulse to say something very uncomplimentary. He had gotten better at that, at least.

Saren nodded again, vaguely approving. "You have learned more patience." he commented. "You surprised me there. I was expecting you to react like that yesterday, or even the day before."

"Yes, but despite all of that you still like playing me for a fool, don't you?" Nihlus abandoned his pretense of meekness. It didn't fit him, anyway.

Saren shook his head impatiently. "Granted, it's mildly entertaining, but hardly reason enough to go through that trouble. I want you to think, to question."

Nihlus' mandibles dropped in open astonishment. "I thought that was the last thing you wanted."

"Then you still misunderstand. I objected to you being contrary just for sake of being so. I very much approve of you using that mind of yours. You're not a fool, as much as you seem to like pretending to be one." He shrugged, his tone perfectly neutral. "You're still far from what you could be, but you're making progress. It will remain to be seen whether it's enough, in the end."

That wasn't encouraging, but Saren never was, and the honesty of that comment took him by surprise. He covered it with humour, as ever.  
>"And here I was thinking you wanted me to become another version of you."<p>

Saren snorted. "Of course not. That's neither possible nor desirable to either of us."

Nihlus wondered whether he'd just been insulted, then gave up.  
>"You still did that to make fun of me, didn't you? Even if you want me to learn."<p>

There was a slight click of mandibles, which in Saren translated to definite amusement. "See? You are learning. And you already know that I rarely do anything for one reason only."

Nihlus shook his head ruefully. "I liked you better when you didn't have any sense of humour." he sighed. He was aware his undertones broadcasted his own amusement quite clearly, especially to someone with Saren's understanding, but he didn't really mind.  
>Whatever he might call it and whatever sensible explanations he had given, Saren had played a prank on him. The game had changed. And he would need to find a way to get back at Saren, of course.<br> 


	9. Chapter 9

After a rather run-of-the-mill mission, Saren had them go back to the Citadel to resupply, make their reports and receive new orders.  
>To Saren's considerable annoyance, there was this time no space available at the dock at C-sec, where he and other Spectres and privileged Council agents usually left their ships, and they had to make do with one of the large public docks for the time being. Nihlus seemed to find this amusing, for some reason, while Saren really couldn't see the humour in all of it. Still, there was nothing he could do about this, so he grudgingly left his ship in a partially closed-off part of the docks, mainly because he didn't want any civilians around the ship if he could avoid it.<br>He didn't intend to leave it there for an extended length of time, his reasoning being that someone from the C-sec dock could always go and retrieve it later when conditions there had become less crowded. It had to be done anyway, because the small vessel was in need of maintenance.

Still, his mood was according as they made their way through the deserted docks, cutting across the closed-off sections instead of walking around them, because Saren was of the opinion that he had already wasted enough time.

Both of them went armed even on the Citadel, of course, but while a Spectre technically could even on the Citadel do as they deemed necessary, there were rules of protocol and courtesy, and even Saren didn't walk the Wards carrying his full arsenal including explosives and heavy weapons, although he kept his normal armour, and both pistol and sniper rifle. Nihlus had swapped his armour for dress uniform and limited himself to just a sidearm.

Neither of them was expecting any particular trouble, and the Citadel wasn't really the place where a Spectre needed to expect to get into firefights.  
>For that reason, there was a certain element of surprise as they entered another section that was supposedly closed down for maintenance, but in reality contained a scout ship, a lot of presumably left-behind cargo crates and a handful of individuals with enough of a guilty conscience to immediately start firing upon the two of them.<p>

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me." Nihlus snarled as they both dove for cover. "What's the Citadel coming to?"

Saren didn't reply, and just growled as he unclasped his sniper rifle and tossed it to Nihlus. Without armour and shields, it made sense for him to stay back and try to do some damage from afar while Saren drew their enemies' attention.

He didn't need to tell Nihlus any of that; they were well used to fighting together by now and knew each other's tactics. Saren snarled in annoyance. He'd have liked something with better firepower than just his pistol, but that couldn't be helped. He went forward, shots glancing off his kinetic barriers, but the fire wasn't as concentrated as it could have been. Nor were the shots aimed all that well, either.

He counted at least five batarians in light armour across the hangar, all of them apparently armed with assault rifles. From what he could tell, they seemed reasonably well armed and armoured, but it seemed their training left a lot to be desired, because they still were mostly surprised instead of already adapting to the situation.

He fired at the closest of them, methodically bringing down his barriers while steadily advancing and ignoring the state of his own shields.

Just as planned, he had the batarians' full attention, at least until a sniper shot took out the one he was advancing upon. He vaulted over the crate the batarian had hidden behind and dropped down and out of sight.

His shields needed time to regenerate, and he took the chance to upgrade from his pistol to the batarian's assault rifle. He winced as he examined it briefly, classifying it as of low quality, a cheap knockoff of a common military model, but it would do for the moment. The rifle's previous owner had enough of his face left to make him pause for a moment, scanning the man's face with his omnitool to try for an ID.  
>Surprisingly enough, the uplink to the Citadel's security system worked for once, and the result came in after seconds. He sent it over to Nihlus' omnitool, just skimming over the contents quickly. Part of a known terrorist group, grudge against the Citadel Council for their decision in humanbatarian conflicts, wanted by both their own government and C-sec. That was more than enough for the moment.  
>Well, at least he knew who they were dealing with.<br>Saren didn't bother to specifically alert C-sec. Nihlus would already have done that.

Overhead, there was more gunfire, and some more sniper shots, so he decided his shields had had enough time to recover and got up again, scanning for his next target.  
>One of them had made the bad decision to come forward and try to get past him at Nihlus, and Saren caught the idiot more or less out in the open. At close range, his shields weren't of much use, and he was simply too surprised by Saren's continued presence to do more than stare in terror as Saren cut him down.<br>Amateurs, Saren thought with contempt.  
>He had planned to either pick them off one by one or just keep them busy until C-sec came in, but unfortunately they didn't oblige him in that and instead broke ranks and started to run for it. A sniper shot at least hit one of them, but the batarian kept moving, and there was too much in the way of obstacles between them now to get another clear shot.<br>They'd have to hunt them down the hard way.  
>Then Saren's combat scanner came alive, detecting movement close by on the other side of the ship, and that decided it for Saren.<p>

"There's some of them still left here. I'll deal with them. Go for the missing three, I'll catch up with you." he told Nihlus via comm, not even waiting for the other turian's reply as he started at a run around the scout ship.

Just like on the other side, there were cargo crates stacked here, providing far too much cover for Saren's liking as he slowed down and chose his way more carefully.  
>His combat scanner insisted that something was still alive straight ahead behind a large empty crate that had fallen on its side. Saren grimaced. Under normal circumstances, he'd have thrown a grenade and flushed out whoever was hidden there. So much for trying to adhere to the Citadel's restrictions.<br>"I don't have time for this." he said aloud. "Come out and I may decide not to shoot you after all."

There was a shrieking sound that wasn't completely unfamiliar, then the crate came flying at him. He narrowly avoided the crate, aiming the rifle at the area behind where a figure was crouching and pulling the trigger, but the rifle overheated and jammed after the first shot.  
>He snarled and threw the useless weapon aside, and was still fumbling for his pistol as the figure jumped forward and came at him.<p>

Saren had enough time to wonder in disbelief how the hell a vorcha had made it onto the Citadel, of all things, then he noted that while it wasn't holding a gun, it wasn't unarmed either. There was a large welding torch in its claws.  
>There wasn't enough time to avoid it, and his shields were no good against fire, so his only chance was meeting it straight on, keep his head down and hope against hope that he was fast enough to get it before it could turn on that torch.<p>

He wasn't.

The torch went ablaze, and his world dissolved into fire, a terrible melting sensation, then simply darkness.  
>The terrible, searing pain in his face wasn't something he could ignore even with his training and experience, but pure forward momentum kept him going, and instinct made him lash out with clawed gauntlets as he crashed into the vorcha. Distantly, he registered it screaming and falling away, then he was down himself, blinded and disoriented, and the only reason he wasn't screaming his throat raw was that he couldn't seem to force enough air into his lungs.<br>He'd been injured in the line of duty more times that he could remember, but this was probably the worst, and by far the most painful. He clawed at his face, an instinctive move that he knew was futile and made things worse, felt and heard his facial plates give way and break, but reason had no place in his mind anymore. His face was pure agony, every shuddering breath like fire in his lungs.

Pain was like a physical weight on him, or maybe it was more than that, because there definitely now was someone gripping his hands, forcing his claws away from his head, and he remembered the vorcha and tried to fight back, and found he didn't have the strength anymore.  
>He felt rage at that, not fear.<br>Something was slapped against his neck, and he tried to snarl reflexively through the haze of pain and darkness but only managed a rattling, weak sound. Not a good sign.  
>Then the fog of pain lightened abruptly, and his mind cleared enough to let him understand the voice of his trainee.<p>

"Stop fighting, it's me. Stay down, I got you. Spirits, you're a mess."

What the hell was Nihlus still doing here? Saren tried to snarl again, failed, but his renewed anger gave him a short boost of strength, enough to even form words.  
>"Don't bother with me. Get them." Something was wrong with his voice, he himself almost couldn't understand what he was saying.<p>

Nihlus snarled. "Not a chance. They can wait. I'm not leaving you here."

Saren's enraged snarl at this open disobedience ended in a strangled wheeze, and something in his airways tightened up and made him choke. He almost blacked out, and he wondered vaguely why he was even fighting to stay conscious. There didn't seem to be much point in it, and it seemed far too much effort.

"Really, I don't know why you did that." Nihlus' voice was exactly that casual, too-familiar drawl that was guaranteed to raise Saren's hackles. "Your face wasn't much before, but even so I doubt that removing it with a welding torch will improve things any. Or were you just too slow to duck? In that case, I would have expected better from a fully-trained Spectre, let alone from a veteran like you."

Saren didn't quite understand why Nihlus was doing this, because really, they had established some mutual respect lately, or so Saren had believed, but the insult was obvious, and again rage pushed him to react. He wasn't too sure what he was trying to do, but Nihlus was close enough, and his right hand was on the younger turian's arm, so he tensed his claws, felt them pierce uniform and plates below.  
>He didn't tolerate insult, ever, and this was something his trainee had to learn, the hard way if necessary. Strange. He really had believed Nihlus had learned that already.<p>

Nihlus growled and there was some pain underlying the tone, but didn't sound really cowed. "Oh, so you're still awake. Surprising. I really had thought you'd given up. But really, that's the best you can do? That's kind of pathetic."  
>Saren's vision had turned from nothing to a red haze, and he really would have liked to claw off the younger turian's face right now, but somehow he couldn't quite find the strength and the coordination, so he just clenched his hand until his claws almost met, and he could hear plates and bone crack.<br>His trainee hissed, but didn't even try to pull away. Instead, he started talking again, and even though Saren had for some reason difficulty to parse the words, the tone alone was enough to keep him wanting to lash out and rip the other to shreds.  
>Some other, more distant part of him wondered at the fact that Nihlus' voice had no subtones at all, which made even less sense.<p>

Then there were other sounds, other voices, blending into each other until he no longer could make any sense of them, other hands on him, and he finally blanked out.

###

Saren disliked hospitals, and he downright hated being a patient. Usually, when he did get hurt badly enough to warrant some mandatory downtime for him, he simply dropped out of sight and holed up somewhere where didn't have to deal with anybody until he had healed up enough. He rarely even thought about it, but he freely admitted to himself that while he could give the impression of a textbook disciplined, cultured turian if he chose to, there was a part of him that was and would always be a solitary, more feral creature than the average turian, with the instincts to match. It was just behaviour established and reinforced when he'd been much younger and lived in far less civilised environments than averagely found within Hierarchy space. He wasn't sociable at the best of times, but was even more wary of other individuals when not at full health and efficiency, because alone meant safe and not having to worry about anyone taking advantage of his weakness to settle some score or another.  
>It wasn't precisely paranoia, either, because too often it had been true. In any case, being both weakened and confined to some environment he couldn't control put more of a strain on his mental health than he cared to admit, and he avoided that sort of situation as much as he could.<p>

Apparently, his dislike had been anticipated, because the doctors had kept him sedated for about a week.  
>His mood, when he finally woke up in what was clearly a hospital bed and discovered this fact by means of a standard medical VI that greeted him cheerfully and asked about his status, was foul beyond words. His head hurt, a dull but diffuse ache he couldn't quite pinpoint to any given location, and while his vision was, surprisingly, back, the colours were all wrong, and some angles were somehow unfamiliar, hurt his eyes and made him feel dizzy.<p>

None of that served to improve his mood.  
>No matter. He wasn't going to stay here.<br>He got out of his bed, carelessly ripping off one IV and some monitoring sensors, which made the whole monitoring equipment throw some sort of electronic fit, accompanied by shrill noises that accentuated his headache. He barely restrained himself from hitting it just to stop the sound, and instead unplugged it none too gently. The VI started complaining until he unplugged its interface as well.  
>That finally gave him some quiet.<p>

Saren felt disoriented for a moment as he stood on his own legs again, then forced the feeling down, and it subsided. Better. He'd be able to move out of here on his own. As all Spectres he did have an apartment on the Citadel. He rarely had used it before, but it would do. It wasn't that he was feeling trapped, of course, but he wanted out.  
>First he had to assess the damage done to his person, however.<p>

The adjacent small bathroom held a mirror, as expected, and Saren took a long look at his own reflection.  
>He wasn't a vain creature, at least not with regard to his appearance, but he couldn't quite suppress a wince. Most of his face now was clearly cybernetic, the rest badly scarred. His eyes were cybernetic replacements in silver and blue, which explained the problems with his vision. His optic nerves probably hadn't adjusted properly yet.<br>He tapped a claw ruefully against his mandibles, which were held to his jaw by implanted metal rods. He tried to twitch them into any expression, but there was almost no play to them anymore. It was probably better that way, though, because the muscles responsible for moving them didn't quite respond anymore. Maybe nerve damage, or just muscle tissue atrophied by heat. He didn't know, but the details hardly mattered.  
>The overall effect could be rightfully described as rather nightmarish.<p>

He allowed himself a sigh.  
>There wasn't much he could do about it than accept it. In the end, it didn't matter what he looked like. In fact, given his profession, it might even give him an edge. He'd learn to use it as an advantage, just as he always had.<p>

He left the bathroom again, and came face to face with am asari nurse that seemed rather shocked to see him on his feet.  
>Saren ignored whatever she was going on about, having no patience whatsoever for that sort of thing, and finally snapped at her. "Get out of my way. Or rather, get my gear. I'm leaving."<br>The nurse tried to voice her disagreement with that, and he lost his patience and snarled at her. Coupled with the way he looked, that got rid of her quickly enough, though he didn't delude himself into believing that that already was the end of the matter.

The appearance of a tall turian female in a doctor's uniform a few minutes later proved him right. As expected she wasn't as easily intimidated and met his glare calmly, no sign of apprehension on her dark, white-marked face. Saren didn't recognise the markings, and she made no attempt to introduce herself.

"You do realise you have still extensive injuries and almost died?" she asked without preamble.

"It didn't quite take." he snapped, and to his vague surprise she twitched her white streaked mandibles into a rather sardonic grin.

"Obviously." she replied dryly. "Well, I know your reputation, and I have had my share of specialists like you as patients before, so I have no illusions whatsoever that you will do the sensible thing and let yourself be treated until I judge it safe to release you."  
>The undertones in her voice made it clear she thought him a bloody idiot, and usually he'd have resented that, but as things were, he couldn't in all fairness fault her for that. It didn't change his mind, though.<p>

From the way the doctor held her head, Saren could tell she was aware of all of that, too. "I can't hold you against your consent, of course, and something tells me that nothing I can do or say will change your mind." The undertones of her voice changed to something like resignation, a long-suffering multitonal sigh. "I did some good work on you, if I do so myself, and if you don't put too much strain on yourself and take enough of the medication that I'm going to leave you with, you might even avoid infection and further complications and get this healed up enough for you to die of something completely unrelated at some other, hopefully distant, point in the future."

Saren felt he probably still was drugged, but something about that speech amused him enough to make him give a wry grin, then a pained snarl as he realised that he really didn't want to move these regions of what was left of his face just yet. Then again, if it only hurt if he tried to laugh then odds were he wouldn't notice it much.

The doctor shook her head, not surprised. "If I saw this sort of behaviour for the first time I'd even be depressed, but I've been doing this for too long now, so I'm saving myself the trouble. If you can refrain from terrorising my nurses any further, I'll send you one with your possessions and your meds. Try to be somewhat sensible, and at least get proper rest for a while. And if your cybernetics give you trouble, come and see me."

He made a noncommittal sound. They both knew he wouldn't.  
>Still shaking her head, she left, grumbling under her breath about damned military specialists with no sense in their bony heads.<br>Saren dismissed her from his mind and settled in to wait.

###

He wasn't really surprised to see his trainee in the lobby of the hospital when he finally got himself discharged, and if he had had any doubts about the changes to his appearance they were removed by the very visible wince Nihlus gave as he approached.

He looked ill at ease, and Saren wasn't sure why that would be the case.

"I can't believe they let you out yet." he said instead of a greeting, and Saren shrugged.

"I'm awake now and can see no further reason to stay."

Saren turned towards the exit, and the younger turian fell into step as his side.

Nihlus didn't try and strike up any conversation, which was both a relief to his still very persistent headache and not consistent with his trainee's normal behaviour.

"You ignored my explicit orders." he said, after a while, keeping his tone neutral.

"You weren't precisely coherent at the time. I made a decision based on my own judgement of the situation." Nihlus replied, his voice perfectly collected and even, undertones just as calm. "The possible gain wasn't worth the loss of your life." He twitched his mandibles into a vague grin, and his undertones were back to normal, broadcasting a touch of smugness. "Besides, I apprehended our suspects shortly afterwards. They are in custody with C-sec - well, the survivors, anyway, I was in a bit of a hurry there. In any case, our job is done."

Saren nodded. "Then I can only offer congratulations on a mission well accomplished."

Nihlus was regarding him, with still some apprehension visible in his stance, and that suddenly was too much.  
>"What happened to me wasn't your fault, and it will not reflect badly on your performance. You can stop worrying about your career. I shouldn't tell you, but your training officially was ended before we touched down on the Citadel, and my report's been with the Council for weeks now. It's their decision, of course, but I expect you to leave the Citadel with full Spectre status."<p>

Nihlus' eyes widened, then he snorted. "You think I was worried about that?"

Saren cocked his head to one side. "What else would you be apprehensive about?"

The younger turian just shook his head. "You're unbelievable."

Saren was a bit confused at that, but chose to ignore the comment.

###

Truth be told, Saren was exhausted. Maybe that, and the fact that he had gotten so used to Nihlus' presence, was explanation enough that he didn't question the younger turian's continued presence until they made it to his apartment.

It wasn't until he had settled himself on the couch in the living room that Saren gave his trainee his best grumpy look.  
>"You are aware that technically you're no longer required to tag along with me?"<p>

Nihlus settled himself in one of the chairs, resting his feet on the couch table. He looked more serious than normal, which Saren found vaguely disturbing.

"When you made me fight you the first time, you didn't really care about technique or skill, because that is something that can be learned." Nihlus said without any preamble. "You wanted to see how I react to defeat, and whether I'm likely to give up if you scare or confuse me enough. And if I had surrendered you'd probably not have killed me, but you'd have ended this training and shipped me back to whatever unit would have taken me in. " He absently prodded the table with a toe, apparently trying to determine the stability of the piece of furniture. "Did I get it right?"

Even in his current state, Saren knew immediately what Nihlus was referring to. He leaned back, satisfaction warring with annoyance at his own weakness. "You are correct." He suppressed a growl. "Which means I owe you another lesson."

Nihlus' mandibles twitched into a rather sharp grin. "And you're in no state to give that lesson and won't be for a bit."

Saren gave a sour growl at the unnecessary reminder.

"Doesn't matter." Nihlus said calmly. "It can wait. I had no intention to leave right away, anyway."  
>The Spectre blinked, confused. "Why would you-"<p>

He was taken completely by surprise as Nihlus suddenly was up and leaned over him, staring into his face. Reflexively he tensed, although he didn't think that this was an attack. His mind was sluggish, the combined effect of drugs and injuries and fresh cybernetics making him think slow. It was strange, the way his instinct didn't object to Nihlus' presence. He was used to him, certainly, but he didn't trust him that far. Did he?

"You really look a mess." Nihlus observed. "And that face of yours now makes it almost impossible to read you. You'll probably count that as an advantage." He growled, as if losing his patience. "And you're still wondering why I'm still here. I'll chalk it up to your current state, but that still makes you the idiot this time. You always know how I'm going to react. And yet you seriously expected me to just leave you while you were injured, and not even for any good reason? I don't abandon members of my squad. Got into trouble for this several times, was reassigned twice for that, as you very well know." He snarled again, something strange in his undertones. "And I'm even less likely to abandon a friend."  
>He suddenly leaned in close, resting his cheekplate against Saren's, the tips of his mandibles grazing against Saren's neck.<p>

Saren couldn't help flinching. This wasn't any sort of formal touch, nor was it anything casual. This was an old gesture, something left over from long back in evolutionary history, when a bite to the throat was still the way to end a dispute, temporarily or permanently, depending on how much force was applied. There wasn't even much symbolism involved, not much imagination required for interpretation. It just meant 'I may have my teeth close to your neck, but I won't bite you, and I'm leaving myself open to the same from you and will trust you to do the same.' It was very basic, something readily understood on an instinctual level, even if it was uncommon in civilised interaction.

Whatever the origin, it was a raw, impulsive, inexplicable offer of trust, and he didn't know what to do with that.  
>He knew how to keep himself aloof, apart from feeling anything, how to counter threat, or manipulation, or seduction. He had no idea how to respond to a genuine display of friendship. This situation had never come up before.<p>

He hadn't thought Nihlus trusted him that way. He'd certainly given him no reason for it.  
>There should be a lesson in that, because Saren knew very well that once one let anyone get close, once one left oneself open to this sort of emotional weakness, it was inevitably going to be exploited, and it was beyond stupid to invite that sort of pain. As a Spectre, he couldn't get emotionally involved, ever, and it had taken him time and practice to learn not to care.<br>Nihlus apparently hadn't learned that all-important lesson yet, that he wasn't supposed to give his trust, because in the end, given the right incentives and reasons anyone was capable of turning against one. There were no exceptions. There was no trust, only the illusion of it.  
>For both their sakes, he should push him back and throw that offer back into his face, maybe leave a claw cut on Nihlus' neck, deep enough to scar and serve as a reminder as to how dangerous it was to trust.<br>His fingers tensed, but somehow he couldn't find the strength to strike. It was weakness, but he could blame neither drugs nor injuries for it, and it shocked him. It wasn't that he didn't want to do that, because that was only to be expected, and personal preferences weren't important either when he knew it was the right thing to do. Much worse, he simply couldn't do it, and he should be appalled at his own lack of resolve, but all he could admit to was confusion.  
>There had to be a fault somewhere in his reasoning, some fact he had overlooked that would explain his sudden inability to do what was necessary.<br>Yet his mind came up with no resolution, and he didn't know what to do.

It wasn't reason but instinct that provided the answer, making him lean his head against the younger turian's, his hand coming up on its own to brush over the back of Nihlus' neck briefly, the gesture meaning both acceptance and confirmation. Rationally, he knew that this was probably even more of a mistake, because having an unexpected weakness like that was bad enough, but admitting to it openly was quite another level of foolishness, but somehow he was suddenly too tired to care.

Only by his sharp intake of breath could he tell Nihlus' surprise at response, and he realised Nihlus had fully expected him to ignore or reject that display. He'd done it anyway, which spoke volumes about both his courage and foolishness.

Nihlus drew back, still regarding him with a strange expression. "Well. That was actually the least probable response I have come up with." He straightened up, and there was some strange humour in his undertones. "Just for ease of reference, how close was I to getting my neck clawed?"

Saren blinked, then tried to flare his mandibles into an amused snarl before fresh pain shot through his face and he remembered that he really shouldn't do that right now. "The impulse crossed my mind." he admitted. "If you predicted that, why risk it?"

Nihlus' reply was a careless shrug as he returned to his chair. "I just thought you should know." He suddenly laughed. "Besides, it's not like I'm not used to the fact that any interaction with you is risky." He pushed back the sleeve of his uniform, displaying three marks on his lower arm, deep wounds that were almost healed, but the plates were already scarring there.

Saren had privately hoped that his memory had been incorrect on that account. Apparently not. "I'm sorry about that." he said, the words unfamiliar on his tongue. He wasn't used to apologising.

Nihlus threw him an incredulous look as he drew down his sleeve again over the scars. "Why? I sort of expected that. After all, I did provoke you." He flared his mandibles in a wide grin. "Granted, I did that to keep you awake. I figured that getting you angry would be much more effective than talking to you in a calm, comforting tone, telling you that all would be all right and asking you to stay awake." Saren just snorted, and Nihlus laughed again. "But really. Everything else you put me through during the past months, and that's what you apologise for? Really?"

Saren met his eyes calmly. "Everything else was necessary, and I won't apologise for something that must be done, even if it's unpleasant. This...I didn't intend to do."

"Forget it." Nihlus shook his head. "Anyway. I always had intended to stay around for a mission or two after this training, simply because I wanted to know how you behave when I'm not your trainee but your equal. And because I suspect that there are some insights you have that you don't share with a trainee but might share with another Spectre, if asked. I couldn't foresee that you'd go and let a vorcha do plastic surgery on your face, but knowing you, that will sideline you for a short time only."

Saren growled. "You're very certain of yourself, and of your welcome here."

"Not really. If you really don't want me along once you're fit for duty again, I won't push it, but I'm not going to leave until you're back to your old insufferable self."

His words could have given Saren reason to reply sharply, but his undertones, once more unmasked, held both determination and worry, and that was clear enough.  
>"I'm probably less sociable if I'm injured," Saren said, supposing that he should give at least some warning.<p>

Nihlus gave him a dry look. "Less sociable. Right. You mean I'm going to notice any difference?"

"Good point," Saren admitted privately wondering whether he had taught Nihlus a bit too well.  
>But for some reason, the other turian's presence wasn't really unwelcome.<p>

He gave up and did the sensible thing, which meant stretching out lengthwise on the couch, closing his eyes and ignoring Nihlus, who apparently had found the remote for the vid wall and was switching between channels, the volume mercifully low.

It was strange, he mused. His head hurt enough to make him want to shred the couch's upholstery, his face was a cybernetic nightmare, and the trainee he never had wanted along in the first place was preparing to torment him with music vids.  
>And yet... the pain was bad but bearable, what he looked like never really had mattered, and the trainee wasn't a trainee anymore, but a friend.<br>It didn't make any rational sense, but at this precise moment the universe inexplicably wasn't a completely dismal place.


End file.
